“Weaves mystery and romance in a very compelling way.”
—Palmetto Review
“Weaves mystery and romance in a very compelling way.”
—Palmetto Review
“Refreshingly surprising story that is fast paced and intelligent.”
—Dustin Pourfy, Gold Star Review
“Refreshingly surprising story that is fast paced and intelligent.”
—Dustin Pourfy, Gold Star Review
“A wonderful tale... A must read.”
—Jack Magnus, Readers’ Favorite
“A wonderful tale... A must read.”
—Jack Magnus, Readers’ Favorite
“A fascinating take on the afterlife.”
—Edgar®-winning author G. Miki Hayden
“A fascinating take on the afterlife.”
—Edgar®-winning author G. Miki Hayden
“Excellent handling of a dysfunctional family...”
—Author Victoria Christopher-Murray
“Excellent handling of a dysfunctional family...”
—Author Victoria Christopher-Murray
“Roni Teson is a gifted storyteller…”
—Author Karen Coccioli
“Roni Teson is a gifted storyteller…”
—Author Karen Coccioli
about
Roni Teson is a two-time Readers’ Favorite award-winning novelist and the recipient of the Dante Rosetti First Place Award for YA Suspense Romance. Her relationship with writing and her love for creating stories took hold after a stage IV cancer diagnosis in 2010. Good news, she’s alive and well and recently returned to school, receiving an M.A. in Creative Writing at Wilkes University, experiencing life as a student and evolution as a writer. Roni lives and writes from her home on the coast of Southern California.
writer, creator, a work in progress
Sister
Forgive me for being prettier in your mind not mine and smarter not even on my best day for being born last and acting like I was not for breathing the air and looking at the world thru blue eyes for almost dying first and for not following your path of slurred words and forgotten charms forgive me for being your sister
The Basement
Franki asked Ma the question nobody else would. “Why do all short people end up in the basement?” “Shh.” Ma pointed upward. Franki saw nothing but blue sky and glorious clouds floating above. She breathed in the odor of freshly cut grass. Skipped along the gravel path, keeping time with Ma’s quick short strides. “How tall today?” Ma asked. And with each movement, the badge hanging around Ma’s...
Lights Off
The boxy Dodge Colt I permanently borrowed from Dad had decided to stall, often. Stop at a red light or press the brakes—stall. “Alternator,” Dad mumbled into the phone. “Or spark plugs. Bring it by. I’ll take a look.” At twenty years old, I needed wheels for college and work. And weekends full of parties with beer bongs and lines of cocaine. It was the 80s, and I had places to go—always. I had...
contact
Have a question or comment? Email me at roniteson@gmail.com or use the button below. I love to get mail and always write back. You can also get in touch with me on social media.
media
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